Reunions and Stumbling
by fenixfether
Summary: Roughly 40 years after the war, Arya and Firnen visit the new home of the riders. Events unfold, someone falls down some stairs, things happen, lots of fun, Arya smiles (at least once), and the Riders get to know one another again, as do the dragons. T to be safe, probably won't change. Eragon/Arya pairing, bits of Saphira/Firnen.
1. Stumbling

A month's journey down the Az Ragini from the eastern edge of Alagaesia was a lush, fertile valley. It was nestled between the shear peaks and cliffs of some unnamed mountain range. This valley was also inhabited by many thousands of beasts, some as small and unthreatening as a shrew, and others which were near the size of a Nagra, so prized by the Dwarves. What made this particular valley so interesting was not the splendid spectrum of tottering furry things, not even the largest ones are worth much mention. The particularly interesting thing about this valley was those things that lived in the valley which could, with a flick of their tail, demolish any other beast yet discovered. They were The Dragons.

At present there were 8 such dragons inhabiting the caves and hollows. Galdok, a proud, golden dragon of 7 winters and his rider, Telaine, shared a cave upon a proud cliff only 5 minutes' ride from the river which flowed through the valley. Slightly above and to the left was a cave owned by Todor and his brilliant partner of mind and soul, Ian. Almost directly across the valley and a bit lower, on a cliff overlooking a beautiful meadow lived Kaine and his deep green dragon, Foresta.

Roughly thirty leagues upstream from this meadow, the Az Ragini turns northward. Therefore, the valley is situated north-to-south which creates a very fortunate property of the sun to always be slightly behind something. In one of the few places in the valley where one could stand and see the sun's full arc, There is a cliff, only 300 feet high, that provides a lovely vista which includes all the other caves and hollows which house the dragons and their riders. In a cave atop this cliff lives a dragon that is by far the oldest in the Farrah Valley. Her name is Saphira and as we begin our story, she is sleeping comfortably with her wing draped lazily over her celebritous rider, as was their tradition for nearly 43 years.

The man asleep on a small bed under her wing was nearly 60 winters into his nearly infinite life, and yet looked only to be about 25 by human standards. His chestnut brown hair fell across his brow noncommittal as if it weren't sure whether it should stay put. This man was, of course, none other than Eragon Bromsson, Kingkiller, Shadeslayer twice over, vanquisher of snagli and leader of the New Order of Dragons and Riders.

He tossed uneasily in his hybrid linen and dragonwing bedding. He was reliving a particularly bitter moment in his life, the same moment he had tortured himself with remembering each night for forty years. In this particular memory there were moments which could make the tips of his leaf-shaped ears turn red, and there were moments where he nearly abandoned his waking dreams in favor of tossing himself from the cliff 100 feet from the cave entrance; But still he carried on in this wretched cycle of bliss and misery all in the pursuit of maintaining his hope, however fragile, that he may get to right those wrongs made so many summers ago.

As an educated reader could guess, the memory which haunts him so is of a particular night in late summer 40 years ago. It was the night when last he se saw the elf Arya. They exchanged feelings that had gone so long unspoken, memories of friends passed on, and shared parts of themselves so sacred that they had nearly wept upon hearing the other's.

A small jet of flame pierced the darkness as Saphira was aggravated by her partner's dreams. She suffered nearly as severely as he did from memories obtained in almost the same moment. Her forest green mate, Firnen had been absent since that dreamt of night on the shores of Az Ragini on the edge of Alagaesia. She had borne 3 eggs from that coupling, two of which had found their riders and were now her students. Firnen had only met one of them, who had hatched for an elven boy.

Silence echoed deafeningly through the halls of the small castle which nestled in the cliff face below the great rider's cave. If one were to wander through the halls in daytime, they might find any of the riders who attended training there, or even any of the several elves, dwarves, urgals, and humans who roamed the halls either performing duties to support the dragon-related students or working for their own study. For as much as Farrah was the stronghold for the New Order of dragons and riders, it was also a thriving university where those select scholars who would better themselves at the expense of most social comforts could come study and teach.

The silence filling the dark castle was broken by two sharp raps on the front doors, carved ornately from oak in the style which adorned King Orik's throne room. There was no answer. After two more attempts, the source of the disruptive noise decided that it was "better to ask forgiveness than permission", and entered cautiously. Raven hair fluttered in the wind as it slipped in the door just behind the head of its owner. Incidentally, as the raven-haired intruder entered the elf-sung entryway, someone looked down upon the castle, noting that it appeared to have grown, rather immediately, an extra wing, which appeared to be somewhat greener than the others.

Viktor was a small boy of dwarfish heritage. He was so young that his beard had not yet come in. His dragon, Terra, was a dull brown color, the same as the walls of the great city of Tronjheim, where he was born. On the eve of his fifteenth birthday, the elves that were charged with ferrying the brown egg, recently released from the Vault of Souls to the Riders, arrived.

Viktor had been in the crowd receiving them when they entered Farthen Dúr. The lead elf, Forrwin had bent down and let Viktor lay a hand on the egg, smiling warmly as he did so. The young dwarf had felt an energy surge through him at the moment his finger touched the cool stone.

He had spent hours after the meeting thinking about it, possibly that's what everyone felt when touching such a powerful magical object. After countless attempts at falling asleep, he resolved to go see the egg. He snuck out in the middle of the night, quickly finding the room in which the egg was kept during its stay in the dwarf city. Upon entering the room he heard a noise, a soft crackling and an odd, foreign sort of cooing. What Viktor saw next made him question his sanity for a brief moment.

Protruding from the top of the egg was a tiny reptilian head, shaking shell fragments and fluids off of itself. He stepped closer and the infant dragon took notice of him. Instead of reacting fearfully as he would expect a newborn creature to do, it silenced and stilled, looking at him curiously. It seemed to be studying him, curious as to what he was just as he was curious about the dragon.

He realized it was struggling, as if it could not work out how to break the remaining shell. The dragon began to make the adorable cooing sound again, asking Viktor for help.

"you promise you won't hurt me?" Viktor asked cautiously

The small reptile nodded in a comically awkward fashion. The young dwarf's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected response and he hurried across the last few feet, helping the dragon break the rest of its constrictive shell off.

The Gedwey insignia appeared on his palm as he touched his new partner, sending icy chills through him.

There was a rattling slam as the doors to the chamber were suddenly thrown open by a pair of angry and embarrassed elves.

"What are you doing in here!" One asked, obviously letting his emotions overtake his normal composure. Just as Viktor was about to stammer out a predictably unsatisfying answer, the elven guards noticed the egg shards on the floor, and the tiny, cooing creature nestled against Viktor's chest. Their breath hitched as they struggled to regain their previous sureness of mind.

"He's hatched for you," One stated lamely.

Viktor only nodded in response, still too stunned to really participate in any conversation. All eyes were affixed firmly to the small reptile in his arms.

The next days were filled with council meetings, blessings, gifts, feasts, adornments of both religious and secular nature, and well wishes from nearly every earth-kin denizen of Farthen Dúr. After a tearful goodbye to his immediate family, he left with the elves for the shores of the Az Ragini which would take him and his newly christened partner, Terra to Farrah Valley.

As they grew together and bonded, it had become a tradition for the pair to take late night flights, as a sort of tribute to the scenario of their meeting. One such flight was taking place as the raven-haired intruder snuck into the entrance hall of the university. It was Terra who noticed the apparently sudden growth of a new wing to the castle. He and his Rider considered it for a moment, mulling over and jesting about possible explanations for its sudden appearance; possibly a spell gone wrong, an elf who very much enjoyed hearing themselves sing a new song, a dwarf with a bit of whimsy for late-night construction.

All this guesswork was put to rest, however, when from the new addition spread a literal wing, then another; both a deep, forest green in the moonlight.

_Foresta?_ Viktor considered, before Terra and he both realized the size of the dragon, far too large for one of only 3 winters. _But the only other forest green dragon is Queen Arya's Firnen. They would not possibly be here._ They left to wake Master Eragon and Saphira to alert them to the visitors whether they be of benign intentions or not.

For all the rationalizing that was happening half a league up in the air, if one were to wander through the entrance hall at that moment, they would in fact see Queen Arya of the elves, sneaking in like a common villain thief. Her lithe grace seeming almost out of place for the tattered rags she wore over her slender frame.

Arya was searching for Eragon's chambers, which she had wrongfully assumed would be in the main keep itself. She could not be blamed, information about Farrah Valley, especially information so precise as where the leader of the Riders slept, was rare and often very inaccurate in Alagaesia.

As the elf searched fruitlessly, the man she was looking for was being frantically roused from his waking dreams by an harried Viktor, who's dragon had alighted on the cliff moments earlier.

In Eragon's mind, he was gently cradling a contentedly smiling Arya's head in his lap, threading his fingers through her silky black hair. She glanced almost nervously from his eyes to his lips and back again, her own features sharply accented by the wan light of the evening sun. She leant up as he leant down, both with eyes fluttering closed. The beating anticipation echoed through his head, and just before the electric spark of lips meeting…He was jolted awake by the young dwarven rider standing at his bedside.

He sat bolt upright, fierce gaze locking on the obviously frightened young lad, "What in the bloody savages is so important to have woken me!?". As the dwarf began to stutter out an answer, Eragon realized his anger was quite misplaced and only due to what he had been forcefully removed from in his dream. "My apologies, Viktor" he added lamely.

"It's…err….It's no matter, Ebrithil".

"Well, what is the matter?" He relaxed his shoulders a bit, reclining slightly against Saphira's supportive wing.

"Sir, there is another dragon here," Viktor visibly relaxed as well.

"A hatchling?" Eragon replied, genuinely surprised. He was normally notified via scrying mirror about anything regarding new riders.

"No," the dwarf replied, still looking a bit concerned, "large green one". Eragon's heart leapt in dangerous hope that he dared not show.

"You're sure it's not Foresta?" he asked tentatively, his hope swelling in time with his trepidation of what a potential meeting between himself and the rider of a certain green dragon might bring.

"It was far too large, and, I cannot be sure, but Terra thought it appeared to be male". By this time, Saphira was evidently paying rapt attention and Eragon was forced to support himself as she shuffled her wings in excitement.

Although he tried desperately to restrain his imagination, his stomach still unsettled itself in the same sort of way it did when Saphira dropped into a steep dive.

"Where?"

"By the keep, on the west side, come, you can see it from here."

_Saphira, let's get down there_ He thought. Before the thought was finished, she was perched on the edge of the cliff, her movement accompanied by a large rush of air which unsettled the sparse furnishings in the cave. She grabbed the nape of her rider's tunic carefully between her enormous teeth and tossed the 60 year-old Master of the Riders and Savior of Alagaesia gracelessly onto her back. She leapt from the cliff, her rider on her back with no saddle or straps, firing herself in a ballistic arc , directly toward the west end of Farrah keep.

As he was catapulted through the air on Saphira's back, he could feel equal excitement and apprehension coming from her usually consistent and harmonious mind, now simultaneously turbulent and perfectly focused. They were only vaguely aware of the brown dragon following them at a somewhat less dramatic pace.

Firnen glanced up at the sound of rushing air overhead. He saw Saphira, with her rider precariously clinging to her spines, at the same instant he felt a long-missed and insistent prodding against his mind.

Arya, until now, blissfully unaware of the goings on outside, felt a similar, familiar pull against her mind's barriers. She instinctively allowed it in, knowing for certain who it was. She didn't even have time to berate herself on her lax control before the connection wiped all useful thought from her brain. The intensity of emotions and thoughts flooding into her from Eragon and Firnen simultaneously caused her breath to hitch, her stomach to flutter, and her steps to falter at an incredibly inopportune moment. She was near the top of a staircase when her feet caught together, sending her tumbling down, not stopping till she reached flat ground. Her head struck stone, and her world went black.

A/N: If I get a decent response, I'll update quickly. I'll probably update quickly anyway, but I still really appreciate your feedback. There is a long way to go with this plot and this chapter is more of an introduction than anything. Also, I normally wouldn't do this, but don't worry, Arya will probably* be fine.


	2. Reunions

**A/N: Welcome to another chapter of Reunions and Stumbling. I'm having far too much fun writing this story. Thank you again to everyone who reviewed. In response to a question asked by "Anonymous" the previous chapter: This will not be all fluff, even though it will definitely be rife with fun, cute little moments. There is a larger storyline I'm playing into, but it's not very heavy. Also, I'm trying a few different things with formatting, so if it looks weird, that's why. **

Arya regains consciousness in a warm bed; there's sunlight streaming between the drawn curtains, illuminating motes of dust in the air. Before she even opens her eyes, she knows something is wrong, something is very wrong. Her mind is silent, in a very uncomfortable way; she can't feel anyone, not even Firnen.

_Nothing could have happened to him…right? This is a safe place. He's probably off hunting, or with Saphira. _Her thoughts raced, worrying that something may have happened to him.

Her eyes snapped open, the light temporarily blinding her. She saw Eragon, sitting in a chair adjacent to the bed, reading something, worry drawn across his face. Even through her uncharacteristic panic, she felt a twinge of excitement at his presence. Arya tried to sit up, but the throbbing in her head kept her down, she settled for rolling over to more comfortably face Eragon, who had just noticed her movement and was looking toward her.

"How do you feel?" he asked, berating himself mentally for an errant thought of how cute she looked in the morning, even with a lump on her head.

"I'm..." her voice was scratchy and difficult to use, "Where's Firnen? I can't feel him," Worry crept into her voice, regardless of her efforts to the contrary.

"He's fine," Eragon looked a bit confused, "he's just outside".

Sure enough, as he said it, a huge green head appeared in the window, nudging his nose through the drawn curtains to see inside. He had a clearly worried expression which softened a bit upon seeing his partner of mind and soul conscious and aware.

Arya relaxed visibly, she couldn't feel him, but there was still a connection, if intangible, between the dragon and rider, showing love and worry through old eyes. Though she was comforted in knowing Firnen was well, seeing him did serve to worry her further about her own well-being.

"I can't hear you….I feel blind." She said toward her dragon, who was also a bit confused.

Firnen was confused because he was aware of her in all the normal ways, their mental bond felt as strong as ever, and he could hear her thoughts which were currently uncharacteristically discordant, like an orchestra playing a series of 7th chords and melodic accidentals.

Eragon was experiencing a similar confusion, because, like Firnen, he could access her thoughts, but she apparently was unaware of it. That troubled him. Telepathic communication and sense was so centric to her life that he was having trouble guessing how she could live without it.

The elf's face held a terrified worry that Eragon had only seen twice before, once when he was injured in Helgrind, and once when she saw her mother's body. He was gripped by an urge to hold her in an embrace, comfort her; tell her she would be alright. He refrained, however, knowing that the only likely reaction to such attempts at comfort would likely be a swift and painful strike to some vulnerable part of his anatomy. He settled instead for taking her hand in his, holding it softly and looking into her eyes.

He told her, with a gentle voice, "You'll be well. The magic has not flown from you. You are still Arya Shadeslayer, and one of the greatest people of any race I have ever known." She smiled inwardly at his use of her title "Shadeslayer". During their last time together by Az Ragni, "Shadeslayer" had become almost a pet name between the two of them, and he was still the only one who ever used it.

As he touched her hand, a shocked expression took her beautiful features. She could feel, see, and hear again. It was like regaining all her primary senses at once, and in a sense she was. She could suddenly feel Eragon's mind in hers, caringly sending waves of comfort. She could feel Firnen's mind, worrying and trying to console her as well. She could even feel Saphira who had recently returned with a fresh kill to share with her green mate.

Eragon finished speaking. He thought briefly that the wonderment she showed and the calming of her frantic mind was due to his gesture of friendship. He smiled slightly and released her hand. Her face fell, like a poor man who was handed all the world's riches only to have to pay it all back in taxes the following day. He felt her thoughts return to panic. He immediately took her hand again, thinking that it was his touch alone which calmed her.

When their hands touched again, Arya got the confirmation she was hoping for. When Eragon touched her, her mind was free again. He was acting as a relay.

_Don't flatter yourself Shadeslayer _she thought to him with a wry sort of comedy. His eyes went wide, first in offense, then in understanding. _I think something has happened to my telepathic system. I must be touching you for it to work_.

She sent a similar thought to Firnen, whose attention was torn quite dramatically between his rider and a large, bloody half of a bovine carcass.

"Can you sit up?" Eragon asked, squeezing her hand supportively, which sent a pleasant tingle down her spine. This _was_ in fact due to the contact alone.

She allowed herself a slight smile as she pulled herself upright, grimacing at the throbbing in her head. Eragon, unknown to her, took much of the pain unto himself.

"As I said, you will be well in time".

"How could you possibly know that?" she asked, a bit indignant.

"Because you are strong, and already appear better than you did mere minutes ago." He shot her an encouraging smile, forcefully stifling the need to grimace at the throbbing ache in his head.

Not yet well enough to engage in an ultimately futile argument, Arya allowed herself to try to believe what he had said.

"Should I have breakfast brought to you?"

He sought out the mind of his longest student, Telaine. He found her outside, having just finished her morning meditation.

_Telaine, will you send Yvess with two plates of breakfast to my bedchamber?_

_ Yes, Ebrithil, she will be there shortly._

*Telaine POV* 7 years ago*

Telaine was a petite human girl, in her 17th year when Galdok hatched for her. She had shoulder length fiery hair and large, expressive, amber eyes, accented by a light dusting of freckles across her lightly tanned skin. She was the first new rider who came to Farrah Valley. Even so, she had only come 6 years ago. It had taken over 30 years since the end of the Rider war for the first egg to hatch. People had almost started to lose hope that they ever would. When Galdok came out of his egg, tittering and attacking bugs, it had been late afternoon in Teirm. Telaine had been the next in line to touch the egg when they cut it off for the day. She was left standing at the gate, staring longingly at the glittering golden thing. They were leaving tomorrow, there would be no second chance, and she wanted to touch that egg.

Years of growing up in Teirm had its advantages. She spent most of her years since she could walk exploring the city. When she could run and climb, she would run across the rooftops and felt like she owned the city. As an added benefit, this meant she knew the city incredibly well. As she was standing in the market square, she knew that there was a terribly convenient bunch of bricks protruding from a wall about 200 feet behind her, which would allow her to flit across the rooftops and right into the walled-off space where the egg stood on a raised pedestal, guarded by 2 elves, 2 dwarves, 2 Kull and 2 humans. Thankfully, she knew, if she aimed her jump just right, she would fall in the center of the circular wall, and well out of sight.

She started up the bricks and in no time was on a rooftop overlooking the market square. The girl darted across the rooftops until she was standing just above the open-topped circular wall. In the center, she could see the egg, on its raised pedestal, resting nicely on a purple cushion. What she didn't account for was the elves' hearing and telepathic sense. As she prepared for the jump, she was suddenly face to face with a tall elven warrior, blade drawn, looking terrifyingly calm.

"You need not fear, so long as you go no closer to the egg," He stated.

"I just want to touch it," she reasoned, "what's the harm in letting a hopeful girl lay one finger on it".

"Very little, however it breaks from our custom. It would be chaos if it became common knowledge that one could simply be let in after we close the gates".

"hm…true, true. But, what if I don't tell," she winked conspiratorially, still very unsure if this was ever going to work.

Suddenly there was a clatter in the distance; pobably some idiot thief doing some idiot thing that was going to get him killed. However, it provided a useful distraction. In the femtosecond the guard's eyes were turned, she bolted, jumping into the enclosure and immediately putting her hands on the egg, willing desperately for something to happen.

As soon as she touched the egg, there were swords and axes trained on her as well as an arrow from the other elf.

_Last chance I guess_ she thought before saying, "If it doesn't hatch, then you can kill me. If it does then we all win, right?" She put on her best winning smile.

"We do not wish to kill you," one of the elves said, "only for you to leave".

She paused for another moment, hoping desperately, that maybe something would happen, that the egg would move or shake. Finally, as nothing did, she sighed in defeat and acquiesced. "Fine, I'll leave. But let me know if he comes out, alright?"

"You'll be the first to know," said one of the humans sarcastically as they forcefully ushered her out of the chamber.

As she was thrown onto the street, the sun was about 15 degrees above the horizon, not long left in the day. She sighed and leant against a wall, more than a little angry. She then heard a shout then excited whispering behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a tiny, golden, winged lizard skittering out of the walled area, under the gate. It opened its wings and awkwardly jumped in the air landing just shy of her leg, flopping in the dirt. She lit up with joy, barely believing her eyes.

The guards were all running toward her, most of their mouths (except the elves' of course) agape in shock. She bent down and scooped the tiny creature, barely the size of a housecat, up in her arms, gasping as her palm lit up silver when the gedwey insignia appeared. She fell in love instantly.

"Come with us please," one of the dwarves stated gruffly. She could see the elf who had originally accosted her grimacing slightly at the irony.

*Eragon/Arya POV* Present Day*

Yvess was an older woman, human, obviously very beautiful in her prime. She had a matronly sort of charm which could make just about anyone smile. When she was told to bring two plates to Master Eragon's chamber, she assumed he was just very hungry, from performing some magic of some sort. She never bothered much with understanding magic, but she knew it made the user very tired and hungry, judging by the students' attitudes after magic lessons. In this situation, one could imagine her surprise upon entering the room and seeing two pairs of elven eyes looking back at her, one of them belonging to a female, no less.

The servant smiled knowingly at both of them before setting the tray of food on a dresser and turning to leave.

Eragon's stomach dropped upon seeing Yvess' expression. Arya heard it in his thoughts and stifled a grin.

"Yvess, I'm not…we weren't" he stammered, feeling for all the world like the 16 year old he was when he first met Arya.

"It's okay, Master Eragon, you have the same right to happiness as anyone else. Quite frankly I'm glad you found yourself a girl, and such a pretty one." She always was a bit motherly to him, even though he was at least 10 years older than her.

Arya was so incredibly amused by this exchange that regardless of her efforts, a light giggle slipped out. The musical laugh made Eragon's heart flutter in an uncomfortably familiar way.

"Thank you for breakfast, Yvess," she said as she stopped laughing, biting her lip to prevent herself collapsing back into fits.

The woman smiled gently and left to return to the kitchens, leaving Eragon looking almost disbelievingly at Arya. Both of them, for just a moment, forgot the problems the new day had brought and reveled in the happiness they had not allowed themselves for so long.

**A/N: I know this feels a bit like wrapping up, but don't worry, (cracks knuckles) I'm just getting started. Also, on a side note, I keep envisioning the bit with Telaine in Teirm as taking place in Ba Sing Se. ***_**Telaine sprints down a side street, desperately trying to lose the guards tailing her. She lithely bounds over a merchant's cart and the guards gracelessly smash into it, launching dozens of cabbages into the air and leaving a very distressed old man to retrieve his vegetables.**_*** I hope you enjoyed that. Anyway, yeah, more to come, review, feed the writers.**


	3. The Gardens

**A/N: Sorry for the long update, especially you Jay. I've been entirely swamped. This chapter is mostly fluff, but it does start to expose the larger plot. Anyway, enjoy, review, and keep reading.**

Saphira was chuckling to herself a bit as she flew over the grounds, observing her rider, strolling through the gardens with Arya. She was incredibly entertained by his apparent regression to the age of 18. He was stumbling over words and his own feet when he was with the elf. He was even pulling faces in vain attempts to elicit a laugh; although they were mostly met with a disapproving raised eyebrow and occasionally a concealed smirk. His behavior was entirely unsuited to one of his age. His dragon knew though, as he did, that Arya would always bring out the youth and light within him.

As they walked, Arya would touch his hand periodically so she could once again feel her surroundings. Though she was up and about, her mental abilities had not yet returned; although she was getting more adjusted to communication via Eragon. She could also not perform magic in the normal way, since it relied on her reaching out to the world from within. She had found, however that she could perform basic magic while in contact with Eragon, drawing still from her own strength. Occasionally she would unintentionally sap some of his strength, but she was improving on that front; he also hardly minded.

The Riders' master had called for a day off "in celebration of their new guest", however Saphira suspected it was more for his own convenience to spend time with his long absent friend. The unprecedented nature of the request had not gone unnoticed by the students either, or among the university residents. There were whispers of everything from marriage to secret, malicious plots, and even untold war in the west. Eragon had been confronted about these rumors. His only response had been, "If they want to talk, let them talk. They may think what they like". He seemed far more interested in entertaining their guest.

Eragon sat on a bench, indicating for his companion to join him.

"Though I am loathe to broach issues of such gravity so soon after our reunion, what circumstance has allowed you to visit us? Are you not needed on the throne in Ellesmera?" He asked in a tone obviously chosen in an attempt to keep the mood light.

"I had hoped to wait before discussing this, but I have abdicated the throne." Eragon saw the light in her eyes as she claimed her freedom with a subdued sort of happiness. "It is now held by Illaren. Firnen and I decided it was time we, as Rider and Dragon, served our duty to the Order and the Peoples of Alagaesia." She said this with an uncharacteristically light air, as if freed from some unpleasant oath.

Any who knew her well knew that Arya was not the type to be happy in a palace, nor on a throne. She longed for the freedom of the sky and the woods. She was evidently glad to be with others who neither fear her for her status as a rider nor revere her for the same. Arya served her time upon the knotted throne and passed the job to someone more suited for long-term leadership.

"I am glad to see you again at my side." Eragon said, not bothering to hide his lopsided grin.

"As am I gladdened to be by it," she replied with the same fiery light in her eyes.

Her depression at the apparent loss of magical independence was softened somewhat by the notion of spending her days with Eragon. Their relationship still had no official definition, but it was too complex to define, and neither of them placed much urgency on it. Both were simply happy for the other's company.

"I must ask," Eragon started, "why did you come in the night? If you had waited but a few hours more I could have received you properly and you might have avoided the incident on the stairs; you wouldn't have to hold my hand to feel the world around you". He looked at her questioningly.

"I was impatient," she said in the Ancient Language. She looked down and tucked a bit of raven hair behind her left ear. Eragon grinned crookedly, suppressing a chuckle at the nervous way she said it. "And, though the circumstances could be more favorable, I quite enjoy holding your hand".

Arya's ivory cheeks turned slightly pink with her last sentence. Eragon couldn't believe it, Arya had blushed. He thought must be the first human in history to see a blushing elf. (In fact, he was the second, the first was his father, but that is a story for another time.)

Eragon's face broke into a huge grin which only caused the elf's blush to deepen. He took her hand and pulled her to him in a warm embrace. She looked up into his eyes. The contact allowed them to feel one another's minds. He could feel what she wanted to do. His hand moved to cradle her angular face. With more sureness than anything she had done yet today, Arya leant up and kissed him gently on the lips.

Regardless of how many times he'd imagined it, regardless of how much he tried to prepare himself, he was still shocked by the absolute, pure, perfection of her kiss. Their hearts were hammering, their bodies were tingling, and their minds were one during that brief moment. Eragon was vaguely aware of Saphira's smug sense of righteousness as she reveled in the fact that the hopes she had helped him keep alive all these years were finally coming to fruition. He also sensed another, less pleasant emotion through their bond, but it seemed buried, and he was too engrossed in his current activity to seek it out.

After what felt like a beautiful eternity, Arya pulled away, resting her forehead against his and letting out a contented sigh. Their eyes still closed, they were content to simply hold one another. She shifted to hide her face in his neck. The two riders sat like that for the better part of an hour, till the sun was at its zenith, sharing thoughts, memories, and feelings.

The large, blue dragon soaring overhead was fighting back the familiar pangs of jealousy she felt whenever Arya was around, reminding herself that Eragon had a right to the same happiness she felt with Firnen.

Although she was ultimately very happy for him, her fierce protectiveness still harangued her with reminders that Arya had hurt him before, humiliated him, broken him. She quelled this with somewhat more difficulty than she had her jealousy. Saphira had learned that Arya slept with Eragon's fairth of her at her bedside every night since they parted at the river. As Firnen had told her, he had drawn Arya back from tears when it had fallen from a carefully wrapped pack on the flight to Farrah Valley and broken. She had purportedly stopped for three days to find the pieces and repair it, though it still bore a long, thin scar through the middle. Arya had not yet shared this information with Eragon, even now with their newfound mental communion. Saphira had sworn to Firnen that she would allow Arya to tell him in her own time, as it was such a damning piece of evidence the intensity of her feelings toward him.

Back on the ground, the two riders were now on their way to the Great Hall for luncheon. Arya was still experiencing headaches and could only be up for a few hours at a time, but she seemed to be recovering quickly. Eragon was glad, but held some trepidation as to if their closeness of the last two days would fade with her recovery.

"Are you well enough to meet the other Riders? I've heard they are quite keen to be introduced" Eragon asked, remembering Viktor on the night of Arya's accident, nearly begging to meet her properly when she was well.

"I…" She paused for a moment, unsure. Eragon's hopeful gaze won her over though, as it always did. "I would be glad to meet them, on the understanding that my condition remains unknown".

He nodded in agreement and pushed open the large dwarf-carved doors. They entered the hall hand-in-hand both as happy as they'd ever been.


End file.
